THE BORDER OF MY MOTHER’S SAREE

Ah! i remember the border of my Mother's Saree;

That symbolised the milk of my human growth.

 I remember its protection and Her love,

It emboldened my childish inanities.

 ...An emigre today...

I have lost my Mother

 Personally and Politically...

An acknowledged highbrow

 I feel cramped in the historicity

of my personal historiography.

The vanity of humanity

bordering on insanity...

 Terror and Violence

Is this my essence?

 My Mother taught me love,

Her border gave me tutelage.

The Saffron, White and Green designs,

Lent buoyancy to the protean protagonist in me

The damning of Ram

The profanity of Allah

The destruction of Christ

Makes the child within me scream...

I was sent out to ensure peace,

...and all around I see humanity in pieces...

We made borders

Today They make us...

 The Sexual holocaust...Racist inferno...

Religious pogrom....and the partioning of hearts...

Where will this extermination end....?

 When will I be able to fell the cool of my mothers' breast?

('cos I believe "good fences do not  make good neighbours")

In the mind's eye

Where I feel like a witness to her soiled border...

Let me create a world of my own...

...that is at one with the simplicity of my heart

...Chained by fortune,

divided by diplomacy

Tormented by the herpes of time...

Let me for once

enjoy my legacy of Humanity ...

Witness though I may be,

I deserve it....

Dont' I??

Sheeba Rakesh.